


Coming Home

by Close_Hauled



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Live Kennedy Universe, Angst, Character Death Fix, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Close_Hauled/pseuds/Close_Hauled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic begins at the end of "Retribution."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

He was gone.

Horatio sat on the edge of the bed staring at him for what seemed like an eternity.  Part of him wanting so desperately to believe that if he remained still, reality would not come crashing down; that his friend was merely playing another of his devilish tricks on him and any moment now Archie would spring up from the bed, laughing at his companion’s premature mask of grief.  Horatio would scold him as was customary in their friendship, but before long he would end up smiling, despite himself and damning his gullibility.

No such happy fate was to befall either of them. 

“My dear friend,” he sighed.

At length, Horatio leaned forward and with trembling fingers, smoothed the stray hairs that clung to Archie’s forehead.  He could not bring himself to look into Archie’s eyes again; unable to bear that vacant stare where dancing mischief should have been.  He felt hollowed out inside, numb.

Dr. Clive appeared with two men, presumably hospital workers, and they lifted Archie’s body from the bed, carrying him from the room, barely acknowledging Horatio’s presence.  In truth, he was glad, since he didn’t trust his voice not to crack, were he called upon to speak.  Still he sat, now transfixed on the blood stained sheets, and remained that way until Commodore Pellew found him an hour later.

Horatio had tried to appear happy at his promotion to Commander, but in accepting he felt as if he were confirming Archie’s guilt.  He was unsure if Pellew had truly believed Archie’s confession.  Openly, the Commodore had to appear convinced of course, but there had been a hint of understanding in the older man’s tone when Horatio had challenged the veracity of Archie’s words.  Pellew had quickly replied that Archie had been a man of great loyalty, who saw his duty and did it. Horatio tried to take comfort in the Commodore's words.

Still, the Kingston Chronicle was silent to Archie’s involvement in the whole affair.  Horatio swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat, at the indignation that Archie’s heroism would never be known by the world at large.  It had not been thought politic to mention him!  How his blood boiled at the expendability of his friend. 

Staring again at his orders, he fancied they were stained with Archie’s blood.  He took small comfort in his vessel’s name _Retribution_.  He needed to find justice for Archie, longing for the chance to see action and claim victory in his memory.

However, fate saw fit to rob him even of that.  The decommissioning that resulted from the uneasy peace with France had meant his Captaincy of _Retribution_ had been short lived.  Now, back in England, languishing on half-pay, reduced once more to the rank of Lieutenant, Horatio wondered if this was his punishment for not making more efforts to regain Mr. Kennedy’s good name while he had been in Kingston.

He had crossed paths with Lieutenant Bush that morning, and though genuinely pleased to see him; his presence only made Archie’s absence more palpable.  The three of them had become close through the nightmare of serving on _Renown_ , and Bush had been the one to dispatch the man responsible for mortally wounding Archie.  Horatio was beyond grateful for that.

When Horatio returned to his lodgings that evening he was quick to undress and ready himself for bed.  He reclined on the rickety cot, pulling the covers up to his chin and called to mind his last conversation with Archie, as had become his nightly ritual.  He had seen many a good man die, but never before had he been so profoundly affected and so unable to find peace in the weeks that followed. 

Of course, none had been as close to him as Archie had been, and none of their deaths had he felt more responsible for.  He had failed his friend twice – in not reaching _Renown_ sooner and stopping the shot that was to claim Archie’s life and again when he held his tongue in the courtroom instead of denouncing Archie’s lie as the confused utterings of a fevered mind. 

Was that the reason he could not let go of the pain Archie’s passing had caused?  Of course, to the outside world, Horatio Hornblower was not in mourning.  His well-practiced stoicism served to keep his inner turmoil safely hidden. 

As he drifted into a troubled sleep he remembered the softness of Archie’s voice, begging him to accept what he offered,

_“Just take it and say goodbye.”_

Horatio thought his heart would break under the weight of Archie’s stare.  His sapphire eyes pleading with Horatio’s soul for acceptance, for understanding of his actions.  Horatio had never been an eloquent speaker and now as he groped for a way to express what was in his heart, the highest compliment he could think to pay him was to say,

 _“I am honored to have served with you”._   Horatio’s voice rang with sincerity causing Archie to let out a whimper of joy,

_“And I to have known you”._

__Without thinking, Horatio leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Archie’s lips.  Surprised by their softness and salty taste he pulled back slightly.  Something burned in Archie’s eyes that Horatio had never seen before: Desire.  His stomach fluttered in excitement as he dropped his head back down to taste him once more.  As his fingers threaded through Archie’s unruly golden mane, Archie hands reached around his neck to pull him even closer, sighing as he did so.  Horatio seized on the opportunity to slip his tongue between Archie’s parted lips and began to tentatively explore the velvet cavern beyond.  Using every last ounce of strength he could command, Archie deepened the kiss; his own tongue pressing insistently into Horatio’s mouth, before the inevitability of his failing health took hold, causing him to break the kiss with a small cry.  The last words he would ever utter…

“ _‘Ratio_.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Awaking with a start, Horatio found his body felt warm.  A tingling sensation washed over him, settling in his lap.  He realized in abject horror that he had grown hard. 

His cheeks scorched with shame, fearing that his unconscious mind’s impure thoughts had somehow defiled Archie’s memory.  His body suddenly stricken with a fervent need to wash any tangible evidence of his transgression away, he rose from the bed and went over to the sink.  Splashing water on his face, and in other places, he regarded himself in the mirror, a stranger to his own eyes.

_A fancier of other boys._

Jack Simpson’s accusation echoed loud and sadistic in his ears.  All at once the memory of being restrained against the table, Simpson’s spit and anger raining down upon him made Horatio shiver. Had he been right all those years ago?  Had he seen something in him that Horatio had been blind to?  He hardly dared think on the answer.  It was true he’d observed Archie dressing from time to time and wished his own gangly frame had been more like the compact, muscular one of his friend.  True also, that he’d often found himself peering a little too long into Archie’s startling blue eyes.  He slid to the floor and raised his knees up to his chest.

Horatio knew little of women.  He had led a somewhat sheltered life prior to acceptance into His Majesty’s service on _Justinian_.  He hadn’t known what to do or where to look upon his arrival when it seemed every man around him had himself a pretty lapful of the fairer sex and none were shy in their expressing their lascivious intentions towards them. 

His thoughts turned to the Duch… Kitty Cobham.  Her arrival on _Le Reve_ had caused quite a stir amongst the crew.  Certainly she was an attractive woman.  During their incarceration in Spain all the men assumed that little actual walking was taking place on their daily excursions.  In truth, nothing had been further from his mind than bedding her. He had been too worried about Archie. 

Then there was Mariette.  He brought a slender finger up to his lips, recalling the moments when they had kissed.  He couldn’t say he had found it unpleasant, but he had not been enough enamored to share her bed that night.  And though her death had caused him heartache, he had grown to realise that it had been symbolic to him of the utter failure of their mission at Muzillac.  In any case, what he had felt then was nothing but a pale shadow of what he felt now.

El Ferrol.  He could not keep his mind from drifting back to that place.  He remembered the rush of excitement when he had discovered Archie was alive… if you could call the sorry state they had found him in, living.  His long captivity had all but broken him, both mentally and physically. 

Horatio had made it his mission to nurse Archie back to health.  Atonement for the guilt he felt for his actions in the jolly boat.  Had he not struck him, Archie would not have been powerless to stop Simpson from cutting the line that tethered him to _Papillon_ ; he would never have been captured. 

At least that was how he’d rationalised it then. 

Had ulterior motives governed his actions?  He had likened his affection for Archie as what a brother might have… if Horatio had had a brother.  Now he began to re-examine every minute detail he could call to memory, every action and reaction. 

How he had held Archie’s face in his hands when he had feared his friend had finally succeeded in ending his own suffering though starvation.  How he had carried him in the rain, straining under the weight of his body, begging Don Masserado to help him.  How he had leaned over him demanding he drink, get strong.

 _“I won’t survive if you don’t help me,”_ he had said, choking back tears. 

Were those the words of one shipmate to another?  Or those of a would-be lover, terrified to lose the one person he cared about above all others?  He remembered how his finger had hovered over the exposed flesh of Archie’s chest.  How instead, he had gripped a handful of his shirt to demonstrate the seriousness of his demand that Archie get better.  He could feel Archie’s hand close over his as he finally relented and drank from the cup at his lips.  And when Horatio’s punishment for the failed escape attempt had ended and the guards returned him to his cell, Archie had rushed to his side, held him in his arms when his legs gave way beneath him and oh, how he had grinned.

Had Archie felt it too? 

A prickle of heat crept down Horatio’s spine at the thought.  Archie had shown him nothing but kindness from the moment he had come aboard _Justinian_ , nine years ago.  Nine years - had it really been so long? 

His gregarious nature and cheeky wit had been a tonic for the young Mr. Hornblower and they had quickly become inseparable.  Even when despondent and fearful of Simpson’s cruelty, Archie had remained a steadfast companion. 

When they had been transferred to the _Indy_ , Archie’s sunny disposition had returned, leaving Simpson and his bullying far behind him.  They would often huddle below decks in quiet corners talking, joking, laughing.  Sometimes Archie would read to him.  Archie loved Shakespeare; Horatio had never had much time for books that did not impart practical knowledge but under Archie’s patient tutelage, he had learned to appreciate the passion of drama, of tragedy and of forbidden love.  He remembered being soothed by the quiet grace of Archie’s voice as he recited lines, often without need of the book he held between them.

The throbbing returned between Horatio’s legs and again he felt ashamed.  Of course he knew that relations sometimes took place between men, but in the Navy, such depravity was punishable by death.  Horatio could not help but feel a measure thankful that he had not been aware enough of his feelings to have acted upon them and risked the noose for himself and Archie. 

But the question remained unanswered… had Archie entertained the same longing for him?  When they had rescued the Spanish survivors from a watery grave, they had rejoined the _Indy_.  Pellew had made it clear that although Mr. Hornblower had given his word to return to El Ferrol, that he would not hold Horatio’s division to that promise.  Archie had been the first to speak up for him:

“ _If Mr. Hornblower has given his word, that holds good for me, Sir_.”

How Horatio’s chest had swelled with pride at Archie’s loyalty.  It was not until later that Horatio realised the magnitude of Archie’s sacrifice in returning to the place that had almost driven him mad.  If he had been willing to endure such suffering of his own free will, perhaps Archie’s affection for him _had_ run deeper than Horatio had understood.

 _I shall never know for certain_.  That thought alone perturbed him greatly.  All the squandered opportunities knocked the wind from his body more so than most raging squall he had ever encountered while at sea.

The prospect of sleeping had become an impossibility now.  Horatio’s mind tossed upon a tumultuous sea of emotions: love, anguish, regret, fear, and a hundred more besides that he could not name.  How could he have been such a fool?  He had loved Archie; loved him still!

But now it was too late.

It was almost as if Archie had died a second time that night as Horatio poured out his grief anew.  When his sobbing subsided, he picked his wretched body up from the wooden floor and walked over to the nightstand.  Located in the drawer was a small leather-bound book. 

As he turned the first page his eyes fixed on Archie’s familiar scrawl, denoting his ownership of the well-worn volume.  Horatio traced the loops and lines of his signature with a fingertip in a futile attempt to be closer to him.  This play had become Horatio’s favorite and Archie, in an all too characteristic display of generosity, had bade him keep it.  Horatio could not help but envisage his friend as the tormented protagonist; Hamlet… and himself as his loyal friend, Horatio.

He began to read.  Minutes slipped into hours as Horatio savored each word, taking his time, allowing himself to become lost amid the pages.  Grey pre-dawn light was peeping in at his window as he reached the final act and the demise of noble Hamlet.  Horatio’s breath came to him in ragged gulps,

“ _O, I die, Horatio…_ ”  The image of Archie in that military hospital bed loomed large in Horatio’s memory.

“ _Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:  And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!_ ”  Horatio silently mouthed the words as he read them.

He closed the book, refusing to finish the act.  The play ended for him there.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Horatio struggled through the day that followed, the lack of sleep reminiscent of his punishment at the hand of Captain Sawyer - continuous watch for 36 hours.  He decided to leave Portsmouth and travel to London.  Archie had always spoken so fondly of the time he spent there, referring to Drury Lane as if it were his second home.  He and Archie had planned to go there together at their next shore leave… which had never come.

Horatio packed his few belongings, arranged for a carriage and left without so much as a backward glance.  Portsmouth had become a symbol for all that Horatio had lost and he would be glad to see the back of the sorry place.  He had discovered thanks to an unexpected letter, that Kitty Cobham had taken the role of Beatrice in _Much Ado About Nothing_.  Perhaps a comedy would help lift his spirits, not to mention the sight of a friendly face.

He found the theatre without much difficulty and procured himself a reasonable seat, grateful that his prowess at whist enabled him to raise additional funds as and when necessary.  God only knew how he would have been able to make ends meet otherwise. 

He found he did enjoy the play, especially the witty dialogue between Beatrice and Benedick; how for all their arguing, their love for one another was readily apparent.  And for a change, true love won out.  He was gratified by that.  He stood and applauded with the rest of the patrons, then re-took his seat waiting for the room to clear.  Once the crowds had departed, he made his way backstage and requested to be told the whereabouts of Miss Cobham so that he might pay his respects to her. 

A helpful employee pointed him in the direction of her dressing room and he made his way down the corridor.  He paused at the door, a little unsure about how best to proceed.  He did not feel it exactly proper to be tapping on the door of a lady’s quarters.  She might be dressing.  The decision was taken out of his hands when, without warning, the door opened and she emerged, almost barreling into him, since he stood so close to the door.  He hastily retreated a pace or two,

“My lady, it’s so good to see you.  Your performance tonight was exemplary.”

“Mr. Aitch!”  She exclaimed, instantly reverting to the coarse accent of her alias, the Duchess of Wharfedale, “No Goose-like greeting for me this time?” She teased him, fondly.

“Not this time, your Grace,” he replied with a thin smile, happy to play along with her charade, “I hope I have learned a little more of the social graces since our first meeting.”

Kitty quickly closed the door behind her, and taking his arm she motioned for him to walk with her.

“Indeed.”  Her voice was once more her own.  “I have made it my business to keep up with your exploits over the years.  Sir Edward must be very proud of your accomplishments.  He always did hold you in the highest regard.”

Horatio winced a little at mention of Pellew.  Even if he had suspected Archie’s confession to be false, it hadn’t stopped him from accepting it, from convicting Archie a mutineer or from divesting him of his good name.  All to save his protégé from the gallows.  Maybe he was judging his former Captain too harshly, but the corruption he had witnessed in Kingston had soured his view of the Navy, which included its more senior officers.

“I have not spoken with the Commodore of late.  There is little cause to, given the current peace with France.”

Kitty was not oblivious to the catch in his voice as he replied.  She knew what heartache he must be feeling.  She squeezed his arm, gently. 

“Come, Horatio.  There is something I must show you.”

Horatio raised an eyebrow but allowed her to lead him away from the bustle of the theatre.

Crossing the road, they approached a rundown looking building.  A light shone from a candle burning within but that was all he could make out in the dark.  Kitty paused at the door.  She turned to Horatio and said,

“I’ll take my leave of you now, Horatio.  Do come and see me again, after…”  She left the remainder of the sentence hanging in the air as she turned and walked back across the street.

“But I don’t understand.”  He regarded her quizzically.

“You will soon enough,” she tossed back over her shoulder.

Horatio stood for a moment in thought.  Evidently, she had wished him to knock on the door.  He rapped smartly on the wood and waited. 

“Come.”

The response was short but clear… the voice eerily familiar.  His stomach turned over, though he hardly knew why, as he let himself inside.  The room was spartan but for a plush, high-backed armchair, which faced away from him, angled towards the roaring fire.

Horatio closed the door behind him and clasped his hands behind his back.  Slowly a figure rose from the chair.  A crop of red-gold hair became visible and as he turned Horatio sucked in his breath,

“ _Archie?_ ”

“Horatio!”  The widest grin spread across his face as Horatio blinked, again and again, expecting the vision before him to vanish in a puff of smoke, the way apparitions were supposed to.  But there he remained, bathed in firelight, and now chuckling at his friend’s astonished confusion.

“It can’t be… you died.”

“Reports of my death have been somewhat exaggerated,” he retorted with a slight genuflection, then added in his habitually light-hearted manner, “It’s me, you great fool, it’s really me.”

Horatio’s knees buckled, no longer seeming to be able to hold his weight.  He caught himself before he fell but was still unable to speak or move.  A thousand questions raced through his mind in a jumbled mess he had no hope of comprehending.  Amid the chaos two words repeated over and over: _he’s alive_.

Archie watched him almost stumble and instinctively rushed to his aid.  His arms went around Horatio’s as he pulled him into a bear hug.

It wasn’t until Horatio felt Archie’s arms encircle him that he truly believed this wasn’t a dream.  He was solid, flesh and blood, and he was holding him.  Horatio was shaking and hot tears stung in his eyes but he kept them from spilling over onto his face as his own arms came up to grip Archie’s back. 

After a few seconds they pulled back and regarded each other in silence.  Overwhelmed by the flood of emotions that coursed through his veins, Horatio leaned down and planted a hard kiss on Archie’s lips.

Stunned at his own forwardness, he quickly searched Archie’s face for a reaction.  Archie seemed as surprised as him, but recovered quickly to say,

“I missed you too, Horatio.”

Horatio’s cheeks colored with embarrassment and yet he could not deny the intense pleasure he’d felt as his mouth had closed over Archie’s, however briefly.  Horatio stared at the ground feeling awkward and exposed.  Thankfully Archie’s talkative nature quickly dispelled any uncomfortable silence that might have followed.

“I’m sure you have many questions.  Come, warm yourself by the fire and I’ll do what I can to explain.”

Archie walked over to a small table and chairs in the corner of the room.  He lifted one up by its back and carried it over to the fireside.  Horatio observed a slight grimace at the effort moving the relatively light piece of furniture had caused his friend.

“You’re hurt.”  The concern in his voice was plain.

“Yes, Horatio… I was shot.  I’m sure you recall; it was quite serious.”  Archie could not resist mocking Horatio; he had always been so easy to tease.

Horatio rolled his eyes, typical Archie – making light of something so serious.

“I just meant…”

“I know,” Archie interrupted.  “Forgive the indulgence of my capricious nature; I should not jest with you on this matter.  I am indeed, still healing.  I only arrived in London a few weeks ago and there has been much to organise since then.  Perhaps it has taken more out of me than I realised.”  Not one to dwell on his own pain, he quickly added, “I assume I have Miss Cobham to thank for our happy reunion?”

Horatio took a seat opposite Archie.  He was acutely aware that Archie’s proximity was warming his body in a way the fire beside him could never manage. 

“Yes, I finally made it to Drury Lane, just like we always planned.”  Horatio’s voice grew less cheery as he continued; “I could not remain in Portsmouth any longer.  It had become… stifling.”

Archie knew Horatio was holding back so much, but he also knew him well enough not to push the matter, at least not yet.  Instead, he said,

“Well, I did promise you the tale of my recent adventures.”

As Horatio listened intently, Archie proceeded to recount the events surrounding his return from the grave.  Horatio’s eyes grew wide as he learned that Archie owed his life to the intervention of Commodore Pellew.  It was under his express orders that Dr. Clive had administered a drug to Archie that simulated death. “Can you imagine, Horatio, I the very Juliet?”  Archie had exclaimed.  He must have done so just before Horatio had visited him in the prison hospital.  It had not been thought prudent to inform Archie of this, however and so when he awoke and found himself alive and on the surgeon’s table, he had been frightened and disoriented. 

Horatio’s heart wrung for Archie, doing his best to imagine how one comes to terms with that kind of a shock.  He wanted to speak on it, but from the determined look in Archie’s eyes, he knew he shouldn’t interrupt.  It had to be hard for him to explain all that had happened in the months they had been apart.

Evidently, a second doctor, thankfully more skilled than the oft-inebriated Dr. Clive, had removed the bullet from Archie’s side and stitched the wound.  Whether or not he would survive had still been very much in doubt, but he had been given the chance.  The next week, maybe more, had passed for Archie in a blur of fever and delirium.  When the fever broke, he found that Mr. Bracegirdle’s aid had been enlisted to smuggle him out of Kingston and they were at sea, headed for England. 

“By the time we made port, I was stronger, able to walk and manage most tasks alone.  You were still at sea on _Retribution_ , but I couldn’t risk staying in Portsmouth for fear of recognition.  An undead mutineer would not remain so for very long if discovered.  They’d have me dancing from the nearest gibbet in no time.” Archie finished.

“Archie…”  Horatio almost sighed his name, his mind still in a whirl of confusion and disbelief.  Pellew _had_ realised Archie’s confession had been a lie; a desperate attempt to save the life of his friend, no matter the cost to himself… a precious gift to be treasured.  And so Pellew had rewarded him for his efforts.  Horatio found his heart that had been so hardened against the Commodore of late, begin to soften a measure.

Archie sat watching as his friend began to absorb all that he’d told him.  God he was more beautiful than he’d dared to remember.  Archie drank in the sight of his long, lithe body, his rich, dark curls set against pale skin; his deep soul-searching eyes, and his full, ripe lips – lips that had been on his just moments ago.  Involuntarily, his tongue flicked out in recollection as the familiar ache returned to his body; the ache of having him so close and yet so far away.  Archie had never dared to hope Horatio would ever return his feelings. 

This was Horatio Hornblower: paragon of naval honor and duty.  A man who held the Articles of War as close to his heart as many held the Bible.  He would never debase himself and all that he stood for, to know the pleasure of another man’s touch.  But why then had he kissed him?  Had Bracegirdle been right?

Archie was well aware that he and Horatio shared a closer bond to that which he observed between Horatio and others they had served with.  Archie had become quite the keen observer of Horatio’s behavior with the men.  He had always been struck by Horatio’s capacity to care.  He had watched him with Pellew.  He had honored their old Captain with a childlike reverence, worshipped him even.  With Matthews, he showed him affection, seeming sometimes to regard him as a father figure, respecting his experience and years of loyal service, counting on him in a crisis.  Even Styles, though Horatio would be slow to admit it, had found a way into Horatio’s heart as a solid, dependable type, however rough his manner.  But he alone had been Horatio’s confidante.  Horatio treated him as an equal, even though Archie never believed himself worthy of the comparison.  Horatio had always sought him out, on land or at sea, he had always been by his side.

As Archie found himself again locked in Horatio’s gaze, he saw tears welling up, barely held back by the rims of his exquisite eyes.  A stab of pain shot right to his heart,

“Horatio, what’s wrong?  This should be a joyous occasion.”

Horatio just shook his head, lowering his eyes to the floor.

Unable to leave it at that, drawn to know what gnawed at his friend so terribly, Archie rose from his seat and came to kneel before Horatio.  Slowly, deliberately, he placed his hands over Horatio’s, feeling them tremble at the contact.  He squeezed, gently, running his fingers over Horatio’s slender digits.  Looking up at him and with a hushed tone, he quoted,

“Give sorrow words.  The grief that does not speak whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.”

The combination of Archie’s honeyed-voice and the feel of his hands as they worked across his own, broke though Horatio’s reserve, and he let out a choked sob, tears spilling forth onto his cheek,

“Oh Archie, I’ve been so lost without you.”

Archie’s heart skipped a beat to hear the very words he had never dared to hope for.  He felt both elated and humbled all at once, to think that he had meant so much to his seemingly self-sufficient friend.

“I’m here now,” Archie assured him.  “I wish there had been a way to get word to you… to spare you this grief.”  Archie wanted so desperately to soothe away his pain.  He _had_ missed him, he hadn’t moved on.  He leaned in a little closer, feeling his pulse quicken to do so.

“I felt so guilty.  You died because of me and I never told you…” the words died on Horatio’s lips, his mouth open as if to finish a thought.

“Told me what, Horatio?  Tell me now.”  Archie was almost breathless with anticipation as he pressed for his answer.

Every instinct Horatio had screamed at him to be silent.  Not to utter the words that would forever change who he was; who he’d always believed himself to be.  His treacherous heart was to be his undoing.  It reminded him of the bitter regret that had plagued him only days ago, how he’d longed for a second chance.  Now it was here; Archie was here, staring him in the face with those damned arresting eyes.  He couldn’t let him slip through his fingers, not this time.

“I never told you… that I love you.”  Horatio’s voice was barely a whisper and again his eyes sought refuge on the floor.  “You had to die for me to realise...”  Horatio swallowed hard, summoning all his courage to meet Archie’s gaze.

As if afraid of his response, Horatio pulled Archie towards him with a primal fierceness and brought their lips together.  Grinding against his mouth, Horatio sought to prove his love in the only clumsy way he knew how.

Archie instinctively slid his arms around Horatio’s waist, his flesh pliant and yielding under Horatio’s demanding lips.  He felt his body shaking, as his wildest dream became reality.  Horatio groaned in his arms, low and throaty as Archie slipped his tongue into Horatio’s hot mouth, tasting the sweetness of him, breathing in his heady scent.

Horatio had never experienced a sensation so overpowering as the feeling of Archie’s smooth, slippery tongue gliding along his own.  He reached down and took handfuls of his silky hair, pulling him even closer.  He was working on instinct alone, raw need to do what felt so incredibly good and to hope that Archie would forgive his inexperienced fumbling.

At last the need to draw breath forced them apart.  They sucked in air, cheeks flushed, still locked in one another’s gaze.  Archie was the first to recover his senses enough to speak, but there was only one word he could manage,

“ _Horatio_.”

Somehow everything he thought, and felt; all that he needed were manifest in his name. 

Horatio felt as if the bottom of his stomach had dropped by a fathom to hear his name spoken with such tenderness, such love.  When he spoke, his voice was tentative,

“What happens now?”

“What do you want to happen?” Archie answered his question with a question, and a sly grin that both unnerved and excited Horatio.  He could feel the blood racing through his veins and yet he remained seated, and awkward.  He felt like a green Midshipman again, unsure of where to look, what to do, what was expected of him.

“I want you,” he whispered, ashamed to speak his desire so plainly.  “I want you, but I’m afraid… I lack the skill, the knowledge.  Teach me what I need to know.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”  Archie replied, rising to stand and pulling Horatio up with him.  They had wasted so much time, had so many moments stolen from them that now, he could not wait another second to be with him, _his_ Horatio, they way he had dreamed of for so long.

Archie’s fingers reached for his stock and began to loosen it.  Horatio’s body tensed momentarily then gave itself over to Archie’s ministrations.  Pulling it free, Archie leaned in to press a kiss to the newly exposed flesh of Horatio’s neck. 

Horatio threw his head back in response to the surge of adrenaline Archie’s touch sent rushing through his body.  His arms were still at his sides, as he allowed Archie to remove his jacket.  Nimble fingers began to work the buttons of his waistcoat.  Soon enough it joined his stock and jacket on the floor beside them.

Archie pulled up on Horatio’s linen shirt, freeing it from the waistband of his breeches.  He slipped his hands underneath to stroke the smooth skin of Horatio’s chest, sighing in satisfaction at this small victory.  His hand came to rest over Horatio’s heart; gratified to know it beat as hard and fast as his own.  Horatio writhed under Archie’s touch and began to follow his lead, seeking to rid him of the inconvenient layers of clothing that separated them from their mutual desire.

“That’s the idea,” Archie coaxed, “I fancy you to be a most attentive student, Mr. Hornblower… now raise you arms.”  Archie’s tone changed from playful to low and commanding in a heartbeat.  Horatio was quick to obey.  Archie stripped him of his shirtsleeves and quickly pulled his own up over his head. 

Tossing them both aside, they faced each other.  Of course both men had seen the other’s body in this state of undress before, but something almost imperceptible had changed.  The freedom to admire the other openly sent their eyes and hands hungrily roaming, touching, stroking. 

Horatio’s eyes were drawn to the ugly scar that branded Archie’s side, still red and puckered at the edges.  With a feather-touch he caressed it.  A look of concern laced with fear crossed Horatio’s face.  Archie did not miss it:

“Nothing will keep me from you this night,” he assured him, as he continued to explore Horatio’s long lines.

Horatio gasped as Archie’s thumb brushed across his nipple.  It was if a fire had ignited under his skin.  His own hand slid up over Archie’s broad chest; raking through the wiry hairs that adorned him, on upwards to his neck and finally tracing along his friend’s strong, square jaw.  His eyes darted from Archie’s small, pink mouth, to his piercing eyes, then back to his mouth; a silent request that Archie was only too happy to grant.

Winding his hands into Horatio’s thick, dark curls, he tugged his head down.  As their lips met, Archie stepped in closer and crushed their bare flesh together.  Archie’s skin seemed first to sear, then to melt him, as the friction of their bodies rubbing together brought Horatio’s desire to a new high.  Archie sucked gently on Horatio’s lower lip before plunging his tongue into Horatio’s mouth, exploring the depths of it once again.

“God Archie, it feels so good,” Horatio blasphemed between hungry assaults.  His voice was raspy and he was panting hard.

“It does,” Archie readily agreed, “and it can feel even better,” he promised, taking Horatio’s hand and leading him across the room towards a door.

Horatio clung to him tightly, afraid that if he let go, he’d lose his nerve.  The door opened and Archie steered him towards the bed.

“Lie down, my love and let me show you pleasure as you’ve never known.”  Archie’s hand was firm against his chest, urging him down onto the bed.

Again, Horatio complied; a small twinge of enjoyment pulled his mouth up into a smile to take orders from Archie.  His body thrummed with a mixture of uncertainty and expectation. 

Archie pulled off Horatio’s shoes, then kicked off his own before climbing atop his beguiling form.  As his legs tangled in Horatio’s, he could feel Horatio stiff and straight as a mainmast, pressing against his thigh.  Bracing himself against the bed with one hand, the other free to tease and tempt, Archie dragged his hard body and even harder cock, back and forth over Horatio, delighting in the groans that emanated from deep within Horatio’s throat.

Horatio’s arms wrapped around Archie’s back.  The pounding between his legs was almost unbearable as he arched up to meet his lover’s rhythm.  In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, born of sheer frustration, his hands sought the laces at the back of Archie’s breeches.

Laughter bubbled up inside Archie, “My sweet, impatient Horatio!  How quickly the student becomes the master.”

“I need to feel your skin against mine.” Horatio’s voice was deep and husky, his hot breath stung Archie’s cheek as he continued to unravel the laces. 

Archie rolled them both onto their sides so they could reach each other’s buttons.  Hasty, trembling fingers worked the buttons in earnest.  In turn they wriggled free of their breeches, dragging off their stockings and undergarments off in short order until finally they were naked in each other’s arms.

With the full extent of Archie’s arousal laid bare, Horatio felt his throat go dry, but was a little less embarrassed by his own engorged loins.

“Archie,” Horatio begged, though he hardly knew what for. 

Archie took Horatio in his arms and pressed hard against him, wanting as much skin to contact skin as was possible.  Horatio nipped at his ear, his hands sliding over his back, moving to his hip and then shyly stroking the curve of his backside.  Now it was Archie’s turn to gasp in surprise.  Who would ever have suspected the skittish Horatio would be so daring?

“Do you mean to out-maneuver me, Mr. Hornblower?”  He questioned with a furtive grin.  “You’ll find I’m not without a trick or two up my sleeve.”

With that Archie lowered his head and began to trace nonsensical patterns over Horatio’s chest with his tongue.  When Archie took Horatio’s nipple between his teeth and gently flicked his tongue across its rosy tip, Horatio thought his body would explode with the ferocity of the sensation. 

His eyes pinched shut and his hands buried themselves in Archie’s flaxen hair.  As Archie moved lower, kissing his taut stomach, questing fingers tracing his hipbone, he felt his thighs tighten.  He suspected what was to come and found he could not watch.

“Archie, are you sure you want to…?” he questioned.

Archie raised his head for a moment; a surge of protectiveness for his cautious friend almost overwhelmed him as he answered,

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Horatio…certain sure.”

Horatio held his breath and raised his hips a little in silent supplication.

The sight of Horatio bending to his will spurred Archie on with fresh ardor as he closed his fingers around Horatio’s rigid, throbbing flesh.

Without preamble or warning, Horatio felt himself sheathed in the unbelievable heat and wetness of Archie’s mouth.

“Oh God,” he cried out, as he thrashed wildly against the sheets, again, daring to invoke the very deity who forbade such carnal knowledge between men.  This new pressure was more than he knew how to bear.

 _God can’t help you now; there is only me…_ Archie mused as he dragged his teeth against overly sensitive skin.  He knew Horatio would not be able to last long against his onslaught and so he tried to slow his movements, exploring his length with a serpentine tongue.  Feeling Horatio shuddering beneath him, he removed his mouth, but continued to pleasure him with long strokes of his hand.

Horatio’s vision went white; his mouth gaped open as he strained against Archie’s masterful touch, his body quaking so intensely.  Suddenly and with a strangled cry, Horatio spilled onto Archie’s hand and sank into the bed amazed and weak all over.  His head swam, coherent though was impossible as his pulse hammered in his ears and his breath came in broken gasps.

Archie reached over to the nightstand and wiped his hand on a convenient piece of linen, then slid back up to meet Horatio’s gaze, reveling in the abandon he had caused in his stoic friend and now, lover.

As his faculties slowly returned to him, Horatio drew close to Archie.  Their legs were still entwined and Horatio rubbed absentmindedly against Archie’s strong, muscular thigh.

“I had no idea… never imagined…” he breathed into Archie’s neck.

Archie reached up and brushed the sweat-laden curls from Horatio’s face.

“My gift to you,” he murmured.

“I’m not worthy, Archie… and you’ve already given me so much.”  He buried his face in the pillow for a moment as Archie continued to stroke his hair.  When he lifted his head again, he eyed Archie and with as much fortitude as he could muster and said:

They lay in each other's arms for several minutes. Archie in blissful contentment until he realised his friend was thinking so loudly, he could almost hear the wheels turning in his skull. After a moment more, Horatio spoke: “You gave your life for me in Kingston, Archie.  All I can offer is my body.  Take me… and make me one with you.”

Archie immediately winced at the word ‘take.’  He could never take from Horatio.  The very connotation of the word implied a lack of consent, and he would not be like Simpson.  Neither would he have Horatio submit through some misguided sense of indebtedness to him.

“It’s not a penance to be exacted, Horatio.”  His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but he felt strongly on the subject.

Horatio shook his head,

“You misunderstand, Archie.  Damn my inarticulate tongue,” he tried again; “I want to give myself to you completely.  For you to know me as no other ever has, ever will.  What you did for me, you did out of love, as I do now for you.”

Archie’s jaw went slack.  Horatio’s words came to his ears like an answered prayer.  Ashamed of his abrasive tone and his assumption that Horatio’s suggestion had been made out of guilt, Archie slid a hand behind Horatio’s ear, cupping his face and offering his lips to Horatio in an unspoken act of contrition.  Horatio met his mouth with renewed fervor, feasting on Archie like a man too long without food.  Archie’s hand dipped low, running it along the inside of Horatio’s thighs, first one, then the other, before once again taking Horatio’s length in his hand and beginning to manipulate the warm, supple flesh back to rigidity.

Horatio’s eyes rolled up into his head.  Having thought himself sated, he was now awash with new ripples of delight under Archie’s skilled hand.

Archie bestowed a few more powerful strokes, then removed his hand, instead gripping Horatio by the shoulders, urging him to rise to his knees.  Horatio did so, his stomach fluttering wildly as Archie maneuvered him into position. On all fours, Archie moved behind him.  Horatio could feel Archie’s hot breath skimming across his shoulders as he went from tracing his hips with the palms of his hands, to wrapping them around Horatio’s chest and nuzzling into his neck.  The feel of Archie’s weight flush against him was a potent aphrodisiac, made more so by the feel of Archie’s firm cock pressing hard along the crease of his buttocks; he held his breath… Archie was so close…

After a moment, Archie withdrew and began fumbling with something on the nightstand.  Horatio felt ridiculously exposed as he crouched on the bed, awaiting the return of Archie’s comforting touch.  _What was he doing?_  Curiosity got the better of him and he titled his head to see Archie slathering a salve of some kind along the shaft and over the head of his cock.

“Archie, what…?”

Archie lifted his head and smiled at Horatio’s innocence,

“This will smooth the way; I would not cause you pain for all the world.”

“Oh,” Horatio said quietly, embarrassed by his ignorance, but thankful for Archie’s thoughtfulness.

“You must tell me if it hurts, Horatio, do you promise?”  The look in Archie’s eyes was as insistent as his words.

“I trust you, Archie…completely,” he replied, avoiding a promise he was not sure he could keep.  He felt sure he could bear anything if it allowed his friend to feel pleasure such as he had experienced, his own discomfort be damned.

“Stay still, I must anoint you, too,” Archie informed him. 

With one hand on Horatio’s hip, Archie smeared a little of the salve around Horatio’s snug entrance with the other, then applying a modest amount of pressure, he slipped a finger inside him. 

Horatio could not help but start at the penetration.  As Archie’s finger sank a little deeper, Horatio discovered the existence of nerves that had lain dormant his whole life.  Now they fired wildly.

“Archie, I – ahh…” he gasped as a shudder moved though his body.

Archie grinned widely, encouraged by Horatio’s reaction.  Slowly he added another, and gently twisting.  Horatio sucked in his breath as his body was breached more substantially.  After a few more moments, Archie removed his fingers.  Spreading Horatio’s cheeks slightly, he positioned the head of his cock against the opening and took hold of Horatio by both hips. 

“Try to relax,” he counseled him.

Unable to speak, Horatio nodded, taking a deep breath.  As Archie pressed into him, a fraction at a time, Horatio’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.  He tried to exhale and relax as Archie had advised but his muscles clenched and released around Archie in uncontrollable succession.  His body was racked with a scorching pain to be opened so wide and tears sprung to his eyes. He felt his cock soften somewhat and he bit down on his lip to avoid crying out, but just when he thought he could no longer take the pressure, a new and incredible heat flooded though him.

Archie paused with each new push, to give Horatio a moment to become used to the feeling, then inched a little deeper.  The impossible tightness of Horatio’s body encasing him was almost inconceivable and it took all of Archie’s self-control to stop himself from thrusting with abandon and surely injuring Horatio.

“I’m going to move now,” Archie warned his new lover. 

“Please,” came the gasped reply.

Archie began a slow rhythm, gently rocking into Horatio and groaning with every forward motion.  As Horatio’s body began to accept him more readily, sliding with increasing ease, Archie deepened his strokes.

Horatio clutched at the bed sheets, bracing himself on his arms while bucking his hips to allow Archie to press even deeper inside him, spurring him on. His cock again began to fill with blood, and pulse with the need for friction.

“More,” Horatio pleaded.

Archie’s pace increased and though he continued to hold Horatio’s hip with one hand, the other reached around to grasp Horatio’s now throbbing flesh.  He worked the shaft in time with his thrusts, reveling in the whimpers of bliss that slipped from Horatio’s mouth. 

“Archie, Archie…” Horatio chanted with increasing desperation, “Archie, oh God…I-” and then Archie felt Horatio’s whole body quaking as hot, wet liquid shot over Archie’s fingers.  To feel his friend climax so intensely broke any control that remained within him as he plunged himself one last time into Horatio, tossing his head back and crying out his own release.

It was at that moment that Horatio’s knees finally buckled and he fell forward onto the bed, bringing Archie’s still shuddering form with him.  Archie collapsed on top of him and they lay, bathed in sweat, fighting for breath, chests heaving, as the room spun around them.

Horatio’s skin was still singing as he felt Archie slip out of him, then kiss his shoulder, open mouthed and wet.

“Horatio…?”

Horatio knew the question that lay in the tone of Archie’s voice.

“Yes, Archie… it was… unfathomably good.”

He felt, rather than saw Archie’s smile, as he lifted his head enough to say, “for me too.”

Archie dragged his body from Horatio’s back, his limbs heavy and barely responsive, dropping onto his side.  Horatio rolled onto his side to face him.  Their arms slid around each other, basking in the afterglow. They would likely regret not cleaning themselves up in the morning but neither could find the energy or desire to move.  Exhausted and replete they fell into a deep and much needed sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Horatio woke to find Archie, propped up on one elbow, a finger winding mindlessly around one of Horatio’s curls.  The way he looked at him with such adoration immediately gave Horatio a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t help but smile lazily.

“Good morning, Mr. Kennedy,” he drawled, “I trust you slept soundly.”

“Exceedingly so,” he confirmed.  His brow furrowed slightly, “no regrets, ‘Ratio?”

“None, Archie,” he assured him, leaning forward and claiming Archie’s delicate mouth in a languid kiss.

They lay together, enjoying the sunlight that streamed in from the tiny window hitting their skin, warming it slowly as they exchanged more kisses and good sensations.  Pulling back, Archie regarded Horatio seriously:

“Where do we go from here, Horatio?  The future is so full of uncertainty.”

“To be truthful, Archie, I don’t know. What I do know is that whatever is to come, we shall face it together.  I never want to lose you again.”

“Nor I you,” Archie hastily replied, pulling Horatio into a tight embrace, that neither God, nor the Admiralty nor any other adversity should dare to break.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, you might also like "Beyond the Grave", a prequel/companion piece to "Coming Home", written from Archie's perspective.


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